


The Knight Shift

by pjordha



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anachronistic, Buddy Cops, Comedy, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Inspired by Starsky & Hutch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-04 06:17:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11549232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pjordha/pseuds/pjordha
Summary: Brienne of Tarth and Jaime Lannister, Kingsguards on theStarsky & Hutch1970's-inspired streets of Kings Landing, have a new case involving carriage chases, fast food, and possible dragon fire.  Semi-AU.  Anachronistic mixing of TV canon, 1970s buddy cop shows, and contemporary culture.  Humor.  Implied Jaime/Cersei and possibly future Brienne/Tormund.





	The Knight Shift

**The Knight Shift**

**By Pjordha**

 

Sergeant Brienne of Tarth frowned as she approached her partner while balancing on her sword a bag of Gold Dragons, a dead raven, a cup of dusk rose tea, and a grande hazelnut macchiato.  Leaning against his undercover motorized Kingsguard carriage, Lord Commander Jaime Lannister clucked his tongue at her and grabbed his large Westerbucks cup just as she was about to spill it.

 

"See, this is why I carry one of these."  He reached with his animatronic hand into the holster of his black leather armor and pulled out his newest weapon, a semi-automatic Valyrian handgun.  "Sexy, huh?"

 

Brienne sighed.  "How is it that your right appendage is ill-equipped to carry evidence—or your beverage!—and yet it is perfectly capable of handling a deadly weapon?"

 

Jaime whirled the rare firearm around the trigger finger of his artificial hand.  "Are you kidding?  We couldn't have the king's uncle scalded by hot coffee, could we?"

 

Brienne was just about to chide her partner when a voice came over the Kingsguard's channel on the CB.  "Breaker—Ser Jaime Lannister, this is headquarters, over!"  Jaime blew the blonde hair from his face and reached into the carriage for the radio like it was a nuisance to have to delay his morning caffeine fix any further.

 

"Yeah, Lannister here.  What is it this time?  Did my sister, the queen mother, forget how to program her DVR again?"  Brienne rolled her eyes at her partner's impudence.  "Or are those pesky wildlings running loose with their ATVs again?"

 

"Er, no, Ser Jaime."  Brienne recognized the voice as belonging to Sansa Stark, a ward of King's Landing whom she'd once rescued from a few of the Brotherhood Without Banners who were tripping on acid.  "You'd better come to headquarters right away," Sansa said over the static-filled airwaves.  "There's been a…murder."

 

Jaime eyed a few scantily clad prostitutes on the corner.  "So what else is new?  We pulled a double shift just yesterday.  Call someone else."

 

Sansa started to sputter and then a deep, well annoyed voice came on the line.  "Jaime, get yourself back to the Red Keep ASAFP."  It was the Lord of Casterly Rock, Shield of Lannisport and Warden of the West, Hand of the King…and Jaime's father, Tywin.  "And bring that gargantuan partner of yours."

 

Jaime used the keyless remote to open the passenger side carriage door for his partner as if in apology for his father's rudeness.  "Fine, fine, but what's the rush?  Who's the stiff this time?"

 

Tywin Lannister made an uncharacteristic groan of exasperation.  "We can't tell…it's been burned too badly."

 

Brienne looked at her partner and reached for the radio.  "Burned by what, my lord?"

 

Tywin's voice dropped even lower.  "Dragon fire."

 

###

 

The crime scene was cut off from curious onlookers by yellow Gold Cloak's tape.  The only figures within the circle of tape belonged to Lord Baelish, Lord Varys, and Grand Maester Pycelle.  Jaime stood shoulder to shoulder with the others while Brienne bent to the ground to examine the corpse.

 

"Ser Jaime.  So glad you could finally join us," quipped The Spider as he removed from his robes the newest Qarthian Phone V.  "We've sent several texts.  Did you not have time to reply?"

 

"If I'd known we'd be in such estimable company," Jaime quipped as he lit a cigarette—it was so hard to find a place to smoke in King's Landing these days—"I wouldn't have insisted we stop for an Egg WestMuffin on the way."

 

"How can we be sure this body was burned by dragon fire?" Brienne asked as she examined the charred remains with a pocket magnifying glass.  "Are not dragons extinct?"

 

"Rumor has it the Targaryen girl has gotten herself not one but three dragons," replied Littlefinger with a barely concealed grin.  "If it's true, imagine what havoc she could wreak."

 

The Grand Maester vigorously shook his head.  "No, no!  Dragons are absolutely extinct.  This body has clearly been burned by wildfire.  I'm the Grand Maester and that is my final word on the matter!"

 

Brienne stood to her full height and considered Pycelle's argument.  "If this was wildfire, there would be traces of green in and around the body.  Is that no so, Ser Jaime?"

 

"I think my partner's got you there, Grand Maester."  Jaime used his longsword to poke the remains, eliciting swallowed gasps from the others.  "Not a speck of green in sight.  But what do we have here?"  The Kingslayer raised his sword so the others could inspect what he saw first—a small piece of shed, scaly membrane impaled on the very tip of his sword.  "I'm no expert, but I've seen a few paintings of dragons in my day, and I'll bet my golden arm that this is dragon scale."

 

As the small council members set about arguing over the possible existence of dragons after 150 years of extinction, Brienne of Tarth searched her regulation issue polyester uniform for a plastic baggie.  Once the evidence was secured, she and Jaime left the Master of Coin, Master of Whispers, and Grand Maester to their scheming and set off to the Red Keep, stopping first to allow Ser Jaime time to finish his Lorath Light.

 

###

 

The Headquarters of the Hand was in an all-out frenzy.  Kingsguards, Gold Cloaks, and perps were all atwitter with rumors of a possible death by dragon.  The Hand of the King was not amused.

 

"You took your time getting here," Tywin Lannister growled as he marched into his office, slammed the door, and planted himself on an Iron Throne replica chair behind his desk.  He nodded at Brienne, who was standing tall at attention.  The look he gave his son, who was slouching in a chair with his feet on the Hand's desk, could have melted The Wall.  "What have you to report?"

 

"And a good morning to you, too, Father," Jaime snipped, then reluctantly lowered his feet.  "We're still investigating.  These things take time."

 

Brienne of Tarth shook her head and straightened her back.  "Results were inconclusive, my lord.  We should know more after the forensics team finishes their analysis."

 

Tywin leaned forward, his eyes narrowed.  "Now, you two listen to me.  No matter what those _C.S.I._ want-to-be's say, that body was not killed by a dragon.  Do you understand me?  I will not have the people of King's Landing going into a panic thinking about dragons."

 

"But, my lord…the evidence—"

 

"Evidence, schmevidence, as long as order is kept," Jaime quipped.  "We mustn't allow people to know the truth, right, Father?"

 

The King's Hand scowled.  "Since you two have such difficulty following simple orders, perhaps I should assign this elsewhere.  I bet the Sand Snakes would love to steal a case from you."

 

Ser Jaime rolled his eyes, jumped to his feet, and headed toward the office door.  "We've got it—no dragons.  C'mon, partner, let's vamoose before he makes us meter maids in Old Valyria!"  Brienne nodded obediently at her boss then quickly followed her partner into the hallway.

 

"Are we really going to ignore such inconclusive evidence?" she whispered as she closed the heavy door.  "Is it not our duty to investigate thoroughly?"

 

"Oh, we'll investigate," Jaime replied as he combed his blonde hair into perfect feathers before replacing the black comb in his back pantaloons pocket.  "We'll just have to get intel from the best source—the—"

 

"—Citadel."

 

"—street."

 

Sergeant Tarth sighed as she followed her partner toward the Kingsguard main entrance.  "Very well.  Let's get moving and perhaps we'll have a solid lead before lunchtime."

 

Ser Jaime smiled as he opened the ever-present box of Dornish Donuts on the duty knight's desk.  "Absolutely.  Juuuuust as soon as I make a quick pit stop."

 

###

 

Brienne took the opportunity of having the horseless carriage all to herself to play with the radio.  When on patrol Ser Jaime always had Classic Casterly Rock blasting, but she preferred the soothing sounds of Smooth Stag 101.9, a calming mix of Kenny Loggins, Gladys Knight, and The Eyrie Supply.  She turned the volume up to full power—3—as she watched her partner slip out of a secret exit leading from the queen's private chamber.  She watched him with sad but affectionate eyes he fixed his clothing and hair while sauntering back to the carriage.

 

"I trust you've left Her Grace in good health."

 

Jaime chuckled as he slid into the passenger seat and quickly turned the radio to a thumping bass beat.  "Sorry that took so long.  Cersei wanted to discuss, er, family business."  Jaime at least had the decency to blush as he zipped up his zipper.  Brienne cleared her throat and started the ignition so they wouldn't have to meet one another's eyes.

 

"This little detour of yours has cost us precious time, you know.  We should be combing the street for intelligence in this potential dragon attack.  I don't see how taking fifteen minutes of…recreation…with your sister, the queen, is going to aid us in our investigation."

 

"That _recreation_ , as you put it," Jaime said smugly, taking a small bag out of his pocket, "is what's going help us crack this case, my friend."  He held at eye level so she could see up close four small, iridescent blue rocks that were both highly addictive and absolutely illegal in all of the Seven Kingdoms.  Brienne bristled at the sight of Qohorcaine rocks.

 

"Where did you…I simply cannot allow you to…I won't stand by and watch you throw your life away on this filth!"

 

Jaime laughed as he pocketed the drugs.  "It's not for imbibing, my lady.  It's for _bribing_.  Now take us downtown and step on it.  It's almost lunchtime."

 

"Very well."  Brienne led them down the cobblestone streets, eyes darting over to her partner every once in a while.  "I suppose as queen your sister has access to all sorts of…people…who deal in all sorts of…substances."  Jaime stuck his leg out the window and sighed, a clear signal that he wished his partner to stop beating about the bush.  "Did she have that disreputable maester of hers concoct those four evil rocks for you?  It's too dangerous!"

 

"It's fine.  I know what I'm doing."

 

"I don't mean to be impertinent in questioning the queen's judgement, but—just be careful.  I worry."

 

Jaime hid a smile.  "I appreciate your concern."

 

"I trust this was not a part of Her Grace's personal… _stash_?"

 

Jaime put on his sunglasses and smiled into the bright King's Landing sun.  "Of course not, Brienne.  And it was only _three_ rocks you saw.  The weekend's coming up."

 

###

 

It didn't take long, once they were downtown in the red light district, to find who they were looking for—a mammoth of a man, sauntering down the street like he hadn't a care in the world but the plaid leisure suit and pink feather boa-topped fedora he wore.  He didn't stop when Jaime called out to him, only continued his leisurely stroll atop glass platform shoes.

 

"C'mon, Hodor Bear, don't you have time for a couple of old friends?"  Jaime gave his widest grin to their most stylistic and favorite secret informant.  Hodor Bear snickered and sauntered down a nearby alleyway and affected his most pimptastic lean against a graffiti-covered wall.  Brienne stopped the car and she and Jaime joined him in the alley.  Jaime leaned his good hand against the wall, to hide them from prying eyes, and to ruffle his fingers over Hodor's fur-trimmed suit.  "How they hanging, Hodor Bear?"

 

"Hodor."

 

Jaime nodded.  "Good to hear.  So, what do you know about a possible death by dragon, Bear?"

 

Hodor Bear nibbled on a cigar and shrugged.  "Hodor."

 

Brienne took out a small parchment pad and quill to take notes.  "Really?  There may be a witness?  Tell us who it is, Hodor Bear!  This is of utmost importance!"

 

Hodor Bear scoffed, wiping microscopic dust from his badass threads as he replied, "Hodor?  Hodor!"

 

"Of course we can make it worth your while," Jaime answered.  "We always do.  Give us a name, a location, anything."

 

"Hodor."  Hodor Bear held out his hand in anticipation.  Brienne shook her head as Jaime went into his pocket.  When Hodor Bear eyed the Qohorcaine, he smiled and went into a litany of "Hodors" so fast that Brienne could barely keep up with her notes.

 

Jaime laughed at his friend's enthusiasm.  "Slow down there, big fella.  What was that you said about a coin found at the scene?"

 

Before Hodor Bear could utter another disyllabic answer, an arrow ripped through the air and planted into the wall just inches away from Ser Jaime's _real_ hand.  The two Kingsguard officers immediately dropped to the ground and pulled their weapons, and Hodor Bear took off like lightening, baggie of illicit drugs tight in his fist, platform shoes left behind in the dust.  Brienne spotted the assailant first—a hooded figure across the street with another arrow pointed right at her partner's head.

 

"Get down, Jaime!"  Training kicked in and the two partners rolled quickly, and the arrow landed instead in the door of Jaime's precious Ford Gran Tyrosh, ruining the perfect bright red paint job.

 

"Bastard!" Jaime sputtered as he scrambled to his feet.

 

"He's getting away!"  Indeed, the hooded would-be murderer had stopped another carriage, this one shiny and black and fast, pulled the driver out of his seat, jumped inside, and started speeding away.  Brienne headed right for the carriage's passenger seat.

 

"I'm driving!" Jaime screamed, though he had no need—by now his partner knew he insisted on leading all high speed chases through King's Landing.  He took a few steps back, then made a run for it, jumping atop the auto's hood and sliding on his ass across it before gracefully landed on his feet and sliding inside the driver's side, through the window.

 

Brienne made haste, but opted to open the door properly.  "Show off!"

 

"It's faster," Jaime laughed as he started up the carriage.  The wheels spun as Jaime stomped on the accelerator, sending the carriage down the cobblestone streets at unbelievable speeds exceeding 1 horsepower.

 

"Slow down, you'll get us killed!"  Brienne said it as par for the course, though she knew Jaime had no intention of stepping on the brakes.

 

"Don't tell me you don't love this!" Jaime laughed as the wind through the carriage window whipped through his blonde hair.  "Beats filing raven messages any day!"  He took out his precious Valyrian handgun and leaned out of the window.  "Cover me!"

 

"Seven Hells, Jaime!"  Brienne reached across to steer as Jaime began trading fire with the perp in the carriage they chased.  Arrows pinged against the carriage, and once again Brienne was glad she'd had the Kingsguard blacksmith fit it with arms-proofing.

 

"Jaime, get your Lannister ass back in this vehicle right now!"

 

"Oh, you're no fun!"  Jaime slithered back inside to take over steering just as they approached the hillier section of the city.  "Oh, this is my favorite part."  Brienne held on tight as Jaime sped up and they went flying over a steep hill.  Jaime pumped his golden fist, shooting up into the air as he screamed, "Yeee-haw!" like a Hill tribesman.  The car landed with a thud and kept on down the road.  Jaime's hair fell back into perfectly coiffed feathers.  Brienne's never looked messier.

 

"Watch the road, Jaime!"

 

"Yeah, yeah.  You gonna call for backup or what?"

 

With all the excitement, Brienne of Tarth had nearly forgotten protocol.  "Of course."  She held on, making her voice sound as calm as the bumpy ride would allow, and grabbed the radio.  "HQ, this is Lioness Three.  In pursuit of a hostile down the Street of Sisters, requesting backup.  We've traded fire with a single suspect in a black late model carriage—"

 

"That is a Braavosi-M-W XJ4!  Don't you know anything about sports carriages?" Jaime quipped as he made a sharp turn to follow said vehicle down a side street.

 

"A very fast carriage.  Requesting backup, repeat, requesting backup!"

 

"No time," Jaime grunted as he pulled up right behind the now stopped horseless carriage.  The knights watched as the hooded figured jumped out of the black carriage and started on foot down a dark side street.  "Let's go!"

 

"Jaime!"  Brienne drew her sword and took off after her partner down the winding side alleys in this, less familiar section of the city.  The figure was quick, and she found herself lagging behind due to her armor.

 

"C'mon!" she heard Jaime yell after her, though she'd already lost sight of him.  Brienne stopped, shook her head, and quickly divested herself of her armor.  It was new, and came off in one piece instead of many, a necessity since the days of squires had long gone, most of them now making much more money as self-employed Ülthos drivers.

 

"Wait for me, Jaime!"  Once her armor was gone, Brienne was able to catch up, and she soon found Jaime chasing the figure toward a ladder leading to the roof of a building.  "Don't do it," she whispered to herself, and then cursed when Jaime did just that, climbing up with his left hand, his golden one waving his gun around like a flag.  By the time she'd reached the bottom of the ladder, she knew he was in trouble.  At first it was arrows and bullet spray, but as she climbed faster, the sounds filling her ears was that of blows and hits…and moans.  Jaime's moans.

 

Once she was atop the roof, Brienne rushed over to find her partner doubled over and panting quickly.  "Are you all right?"

 

"Just got the wind knocked out of me," Jaime gasped as his partner helped him to his feet.  "Little shit sucker punched me."

 

"What can you ascertain from your encounter?  What manner of assassin was he?  Could he have been a sellsword?"

 

"Uh…about that—lookout!" Jaime squealed just as the assailant pushed Brienne into him and they both went tumbling to the ground.  When the dust settled, Brienne was straddling Jaime, face down, nose to nose.  Jaime smirked up at his partner, whose face was bright pink.  "If you wanted me on my back, my lady, all you had to do was ask."

 

"Oh, for heaven's sake."  Brienne rolled off Jaime and expertly kicked herself up to her feet, sword at the ready and staring down the hooded assailant just a few feet in front of them.

 

Jaime whistled low.  "Respect."  He pulled his gun, but the perp did a foreword somersault in the air and then kicked Jaime's Valyrian steel handgun clear away—along with Jaime's golden animatronic hand.  Jaime gasped—it was like Bolton's men and Locke all over again.  Almost.  He stared down at his bare stump.  "Son of a bitch!"

 

"That is Ser Jaime Lannister whom you've so dishonored," Brienne growled at the hooded figure, who was circling them both in a low crouch.  "By the Old Gods and the New, I will have vengeance.  Stand still and be on your guard!"

 

The perp had the audacity to thumb his hidden nose with one hand and give a "come and get me" gesture with the other.

 

"Aw, hells, Brienne," Jaime sputtered, still holding his stump, "kick that ass!"

 

"With pleasure."  Sergeant Brienne attacked, but the figure easily lunged out of the way with some fancy footwork and foreign maneuvers.  Brienne could only stand and watch, unsure whether to parry and thrust or throw her sword down.  "He won't hold still!"

 

"Make with the rope-a-dope!" Jaime barked excitedly as he made sharp movements with his hand and stump.  "Uppercut, Brienne!  Jab!  Jab!"

 

"Aw, shut up already!  Damn!"  Exasperated, Sergeant Brienne started tossing her sword from one hand to the other, moving slowly toward her partner, as if to hypnotize the assailant with her handiwork.  The figure stood tall and cocked his head, and that's when Brienne dove over and grabbed Jaime's gun.  She jumped to her feet and pointed it right at the figure's heart.  "Now, then.  Show yourself, fiend, before I blow you to Fifth Hell!"

 

The figure made a cursory move, but Brienne stepped closer, pointed harder.

 

"Careful," Jaime whispered, "you've never used one of those, have you?"

 

Brienne sighed.  "Well, don't tell him tha—"  And then the figure started to lunge, and Sergeant Brienne of Tarth pulled the trigger, and with the safety still on and her lack of handgun practice, the Westerosi bullet meant for the assailant instead backfired.  Brienne dropped the gun with a bang and marveled at the spray of red on her unarmored chest.

 

"Jaime?"  Once she touched wetness, and looked at it on her fingers, Brienne was on the ground.  The last thing she saw before everything went black was her partner hovering over her, stumping her hand, shouting her name as he shot after the fast retreating figure of what could _not_ have been Arya Stark…

 

###

 

Blinding white lights greeted Brienne of Tarth as she opened her eyes.  She would have taken the room for one of the Seven Heavens, but the pain in her body and the stench emanating from the redheaded, long-bearded wildling man sitting across from her quickly disavowed her of that notion.  Once she was able to sit up, the man removed his smelly tattered hide and fur coverings to reveal pale blue hospital scrubs.

 

"Who are you?" she asked him with a scratchy voice.  "Is this the royal hospital?  Where's Ser Jaime?"

 

The man grunted at her, wrote something on her chart, and then went out a door.  Within seconds Jaime and several other knights from their precinct came flooding into the room, expressing their relief at their fellow Kingsguard's speedy recovery.

 

"Only _you_ would get shot in the line of duty…by yourself!" laughed the City Watch precinct captain Ser Bronn as he bounced on a nearby empty hospital bed.  "See, this is why I'm retiring and becoming a private dick.  These King's Landing streets are becoming too dangerous for law-abiding knights that actually know how to use their weapons!"

 

The others chuckled.  All but Jaime.  "Yes, go ahead and laugh.  You all know that Brienne of Tarth is twice the knight any of you are.  She made sergeant faster than anyone on the force, she single-handedly took down Sandor Clegane—when she was on vacation, mind you—she's the only one of us never have been brought up on charges by Internal Affairs, and—"

 

"Yeah, yeah, she's a good knight, we know," Ser Bronn laughed.  "Just can't shoot worth a damn."  When he saw the embarrassment on Brienne's face, the captain held his hands up.  "Ah, don't sweat it, sweetheart.  Least you didn't get your hand kicked off by a little girl."

 

Jaime rolled his eyes.  "Ok, folks, why don't we take this little celebration down to Oathkeeper's and let Sergeant Brienne get her rest?"

 

Deputy Gilly, recently graduated from the Academy, raised her hand.  "You buying, ser?"

 

Jaime stood up and motioned for everyone to leave.  "Yes, of course.  A Lannister always picks up the tab."  The knights of the King's Landing left to pursue the promise of ale, giving their wounded compatriot a few more kindly pats on her back before leaving the hospital room.  Once they were alone, Jaime sat on the bed next to his partner and gave her a stern look.  "Why the hells did you take off your armor?  You could have been killed!"

 

Brienne winced as she struggled to sit up properly.  "It was weighing me down…holding me back."  She looked out the window toward the hustle and bustle of King's Landing—the blacksmith, the furrier, the horse stable, and the video arcade.  "I had to get to you as quickly as possible…to ensure your safety and to apprehend the culprit."

 

"And instead you shot yourself and the little brat got away."

 

Brienne turned quickly, the memory flooding back suddenly.  "Was it indeed Arya Stark?"  Jaime blew the feathers of his hair out of his face and looked up at the hospital ceiling.

 

"Appears so.  I didn't get that good a look at her, and last time I saw her she was a child roller-skating around Winterfell like some disco wannabe.  Northerners."

 

"And she got away.  Why didn't you go after her?"

 

Jaime gave her a pointed look.  "What kind of partner would I be if I left you to die on the roof of a Burger King, First of His Name?  You can't very well make detective lieutenant if you're dead."

 

"But I don't understand how she was able to best us both with— _detective_ _lieutenant_?"

 

Jaime polished his animatronic hand, now safe and sound in place, on the scratchy bedsheet.  "When I explained to Father that you took a bullet to protect not only me, but the truth about this death by dragon, he really had no choice but to promote you.  The pay raise is, uh, negligible, but now you can be plain clothed all the time."  He wiggled his eyebrows at her.  "Think of it, Brienne.  No more scratchy uniform and heavy armor.  You can rock corsets and tunics and bellbottoms all you want.  Cool, eh?"

 

"Indeed.  But what about the case?   Is there any new evidence?  And why would Arya Stark want to harm us—and where would she learn to shoot a crossbow so well—and—"

 

"Enough.  Once you're healed up and back at work, we'll go over the case again, hit the streets, and put your new detective badge to good use.  Right now, I want you to rest up."  He looked down at the bandages on her chest.  "There was so much blood…I thought I'd lost you."

 

Brienne reached out tentatively to touch her partner—her friend's—hand.  "I'm all right.  Thanks to you."  She cleared her throat.  "You saved my life.  Thank you."

 

Jaime shrugged like it was nothing, but he squeezed her hand nonetheless.  "Thank the gods and the guy who dug that bullet out of you."  As if on cue, the door opened and the scruffy long-bearded wildling from before came in to check Brienne's vitals.  "Tormund Giantsbane here has been the most attentive of healers.  Hasn't been away from your side for more than a few minutes since you were brought in.  Doesn't seem very professional to me."

 

The wildling wrote something on Brienne's chart, then took out a blood pressure cuff.

 

"What is that?" Brienne scoffed, scooting away from the contraption.  "Some sort of wildling wizardry?  Please don't touch me with that.  Good day, my lord!"  Looking her up and down, Tormund smiled shyly and slipped back out the door, murmuring something about rehab centers north of The Wall.  "I do not care for the way that man looked at me."

 

"Give the guy a break.  He likes you."

 

Brienne went pink.  "No, I don't think—"

 

"Yes, he does," Jaime said decisively.  "When you're healed you should at least buy the man a cup of coffee or take him boar hunting or something."

 

"And why should I do that?"

 

Jaime smiled sadly.  "Because you deserve someone who will treat you well…someone that deserves you back."  They looked away from each other, as they always did when someone mentioned her lack of love life or his unusually close relationship with his sister.

 

"Do you not deserve the same, Ser Jaime?"

 

Jaime started to reply, but chose to answer his cellphone when it suddenly rang.  "Yeah, Lannister, here.  Oh, really?  Interesting.  I'll be right down."  He stood and flipped his hair out of his eyes.  "Seems there's an I.D. on that burned body."

 

Brienne perked up.  "Who?"

 

"None other than Euron 'Pretty Boy' Greyjoy."

 

"The Iron Islands crime lord?  Who would have the audacity to kill him?  And why would Arya Stark want to keep us from finding this out?"

 

"The man had enemies everywhere.  His own kin on the Iron Islands, pirates he's crossed, Ellaria Sand after he released that revenge porn of her."

 

"Question is: who wanted him dead _and_ had access to a dragon?"  The partners looked at each other.  "How fast can you get a search warrant for Daenerys Targaryen?"  Brienne started trying to get out of bed, much to her partner's refusal.  "Let me up, Jaime, we need to book passage east!"

 

"Relax.  We'll get to the bottom of this, eventually.  Just rest."  Jaime squeezed her shoulder and sauntered to the door.  "I'll be at the Red Keep having lunch with my sister."  They shared a smile and then Jaime was out the door.  Before it closed again, the wildling Tormund Giantsbane was back in her room, sitting across from her, writing something on her chart.  Brienne waited, arms crossed, but he held steadfast.

 

In one fast breath Brienne said, "If you would be so kind as to leave me alone…I would…at some point in the future…be obliged to accompany you to the destination of your choice.  I suppose.  As long as it's south of The Wall."  She sank down into her bed, playing with the expertly wrapped bandages.  "There's a new fondue tavern in town that's supposed to be good."

 

He went back to writing in her chart, but the corner of his mouth went up and he muttered something about skinny dipping off Bear Island.

 

Brienne gulped.  And then smiled.  She'd always wanted to go skinny dipping.

 

© 2017 by KTA


End file.
